Ten Years Later in Cold Sassy Tree
by RavenclawRebel
Summary: One shot about how life is ten years later in Cold Sassy Tree... Some characters have undergone some changes...


**A/N: This is my first story, so please be nice! No negative reviews, and I don't own anything! :)**

Ten Years Later

Progressive City, Will's Farmhouse

It felt good to have a family reunion. Seeing some people for the first time in ten years was a shock; some people had undergone major changes. When Loma walked in, her auburn hair pulled back in a dainty bun, I gasped. "Loma?" She turned, and so did the man who was escorting her: A tall, black haired Yankee.

"Will? How are you? Have you been working at the store?" She quizzed in a crisp, Northern voice. There was no trace of her Southern accent.

"No, I'm a farmer now," I grinned. "I'm married to Lightfoot!" I looked around; Lightfoot was in the kitchen with my mom, Mary Willis, helping to prepare dinner. She spotted me and grinned, waving a greeting to Loma.

"Oh! Will, this is my husband, Jack Rich." She said, smiling up at Jack. "We met in a coffee shop up in New York City. I was writing another play… The first one got amazing reviews when it was performed on Broadway, you know. Anyways, since the reviews were really good, I decided to write another one! Here," She rummaged in her large and colorful purse and pulled out a large, typed manuscript. In a flash, Lightfoot was by my side and taking the manuscript from my hands. She rifled through the pages, a smile on her ruby red lips.

"Lightfoot! So good to see you! What happened to you and Hosie Roach?" Loma asked. Jack moved away and walked over to Hoyt, my dad, who still worked at the store.

"Hmm? Me and Hosie?" Lightfoot answered distractedly. "Oh, it just didn't work out. I loved Will more than Hosie. And we have a son now, Rucker Blakeslee Junior!" She added with a proud grin.

"How sweet!" Loma cooed. "So what happened to Hosie?"

Lightfoot looked up, startled. "You don't know? President Woodrow Wilson is Hosie Roach! He moved to Washington and ran for President, but he decided President Roach wasn't really a President's name, so he changed it." Loma gaped at her, her face pale and a disbelieving glint in her eyes. She was spared having to answer by the arrival of Miss Love Simpson and her son and my uncle, the ten-year-old Bruce Blakeslee.

"Come on in, Miss Love! Have you heard if Loomis is coming?" I waved her over, my arm slung casually over Lightfoot's shoulders.

"Our fashion designer friend? No, I haven't heard." Love answered. After Queenie's death three years ago, Loomis had been devastated. The only person who could console him was his young daughter. Two years ago, Loomis had left without a word, leaving only a note explaining that he had had an epiphany: He was gay wand had always dreamed of being a fashion designer. With his daughter in tow, he had relocated to NYC and started a small business. Within a few months, Loomis was a star: His clothes appeared on the runway and in magazines such as Vogue and W. All the celebrities wore his fashions. Loomis had hit it big. It would be understandable if Loomis didn't show up; but all the same it would be a lot more fun with the big man around.

I wondered if Mary Toy would be coming; she had gone to a literature college and was now living in Tennessee. She had published several novels, but none of them had become bestsellers, much to her and Loma's disappointment. I smiled; while Loma had been glad that Mary Toy had started writing, she still insisted that I write, saying that I had a natural talent. I always refused; I enjoyed farming too much. Camp Junior helped around the farm and store also, from time to time. After Loma had disowned him for looking like a miniature copy of her deceased husband, Camp had moved in with Hoyt and Mary Willis. While he looked like his father, he certainly didn't act like him. The eleven year old was obsessed with physical fitness, was fit, and was an extremely motivated worker. Pa was proud of him, and praised him for his hard work. The way it was going, I wouldn't be surprised if he inherited the store.

I stared out the window, barely paying attention to the brilliant sunset. When Lightfoot, Progressive City's famous gardener, mentioned Effie Bell Tate to Loma, I tuned back into the conversation.

"Yeah, she vanished a few years back." Lightfoot was saying. "All we know is that she went for an early morning walk and never came back. She disappeared, and we still haven't found her." She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. "People are saying she was abducted by aliens." Loma looked skeptical.

"Aliens? Are you sure she didn't wander off into the woods somewhere and get devoured by wolves?"

"No one has found a body! And she wasn't walking toward the woods, she was walking towards the Graveyard." I put in.

"Then she fell in a grave." Loma retorted.

"You know, for a writer, she really has no imagination!" I said to Lightfoot. Before she could reply, Miss Love came wandering towards us.

"Did you hear about Clayton McAllister?" She asked.

"What about him? Did he come back and propose, _again?_" Loma asked.

"No, apparently he moved back to Texas and struck it big in the lottery. And I mean big! He won it twice!" Our jaws dropped open.

"T…Twice?" Loma stuttered.

"Yes, and he created a Nightclub that's really popular. He gets a ton of girls there."

Loma snorted. "Typical,"

"Agreed."

"Okay! The food is ready!" Ma stood in the kitchen doorway, a smile on her weathered face. We swarmed towards the food, our stomachs grumbling.

After a satisfying dinner and an excellent apple pie, we lounged back in our seats, content and full. Loma asked Love idly if she could make her another hat, since her job as a milliner was still going strong. My hand was grasping Lightfoot's and Rucker was sitting on my lap, fast asleep. Sensing a lull in the conversation, I spoke up. "How 'bout some games?"

"Like what?" Jack asked sleepily.

"Horse races," I invented. "Fastest down the cornfield and back. And afterwards we can have a scavenger hunt, with the winner getting his choice of an item from the store."

"And later, we can lie down on the train tracks!" Laughter echoed up and down the table, remember my accident on the train trestle.

"Uh, let's not do that." I said, blushing.

"I'm game! Anyone want to race me?" Love proposed.

"You're on!" Jack cracked a grin. I smiled and stood up, carrying Rucker. This was going to be fun.


End file.
